


from her husband’s hand her hand soft she withdrew

by tigriswolf



Series: comment_fic drabbles [169]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Odin's A+ Parenting, mama bears will tear you apart, playing the longest game of all
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-13
Updated: 2014-01-13
Packaged: 2018-01-08 13:33:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1133243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tigriswolf/pseuds/tigriswolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Is it all you wanted, All-Father?" she asks, stepping out of shadow as the door closes behind the only child of her womb.</p>
            </blockquote>





	from her husband’s hand her hand soft she withdrew

**Author's Note:**

> Title: from her husband’s hand her hand soft she withdrew  
> Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Milton  
> Warnings: spoilers for Thor 2  
> Pairings: Odin/Frigga  
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 345  
> Point of view: third  
> Prompt: Any, any, she has waited so long for revenge

"Is it all you wanted, All-Father?" she asks, stepping out of shadow as the door closes behind the only child of her womb. 

"They grieved for you, my queen," the boy says, letting his illusion fade, "as I'm sure they never grieved for me." 

She smiles, looking around at the repairs, at Hliðskjálf. "Has Gungnir given you any trouble?" she asks. 

"No, Mother," he says as he stands. "I have won your throne." 

She smiles at him, this child not of her womb but of her heart, of her siedr. "Come," she says. "Show me where he is." 

His smile is just as cold, just as bright - the smile for courtiers, as she taught him while the child of her womb played at warriors with his friends.

Eight thousand years ago, her late husband's father fought a war. Four thousand years ago, she was born to her late husband's enemies. Three thousand years ago, she allowed her late husband to think he had won her loyalty. 

One thousand years ago, her late husband came home with another king's child and told her to raise it. 

( _It_ , he had said. _Make it useful, make it loyal, make it ours_.)

"Mother," the child of her heart says, clutching her hand.

"My son," she says.

Oh, yes. Asgardr is hers, at last. "Show me to my late husband," she murmurs, "and then the Gate Keeper is yours, to do with as you please."

His grin is as cold as Jötunheimr’s winter, but his eyes as bright as the first time he mastered one of her spells. ( _Her_ spells – Asgardr had never seen such seidr as the queen wielded. Another warning that went unheeded.) “Yes, Mother,” he says. 

Gungnir obeys the strongest; Hliðskjálf accepts the mightiest. Her late husband never truly understood the magick.

Because she still loves the child of her womb, she allows him to keep the hammer, though it will never attack the child of her heart again.

She cannot wait to look her late husband in the eye and give him her mother’s smile.


End file.
